


Aurora

by toothpaste



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, LGBT, LGBTQIA+, Lesbian, gayfem, wlw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1987-05-17
Updated: 1987-05-17
Packaged: 2020-10-14 18:04:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20605049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toothpaste/pseuds/toothpaste
Summary: Evelyn, in her late 20's is coping with the loss of her grandmother, Caroline, when her ex-flame from boarding school rekindles what once was.Then they find letters, dated in the 1920s, pertaining to a relationship that they never expected between Caroline, and a mysterious Italian woman named Aurora.





	1. Chapter 1

LILLIES

The attic has that old, mildewy smell, reminiscent of cups of tea and moss in Autumn. Not unlike the rest of this old, unkempt house, I thought to myself. Dust crept into my nostrils, reminding me of my mission. I began wading through the heaps of old sewing projects, tapestries, carpets and boxes, trying to find a place to start sorting out this decaying, small room. I lit a cigarette, reaching into my pocket to search for the lighter my grandma had given me before her passing. It bore the insignia of a cruise boat she travelled on in her 20’s, La Gloria. The smoke curled in the air around my head, reminding me of the stories she told me over a glass of port, late at night when I was younger. About her experience of the world, never trust a Spaniard after a round of tequila, she told me. I made that mistake in 32’, it nearly cost me my beloved Delilah, her cat that she had from the age of 16 to when it passed away when she was in her late 20’s. I laughed at the memory of her ridiculous stories.

I finished my cigarette, dropped it in the ashtray. I slowly began moving everything out the attic, downstairs, and downstairs again to the awaiting skip that I’d hired to clean out my Grandmother's old house. The whole project took until the sun had begun its departure down to the horizon line, and I still haven't come close to finishing. I hope it doesn’t rain tonight, I thought. Putting the kettle on, I slowly walked over to the plush but aged green sofa that I’d known all my life, sinking down into it.  
This room felt different now that Gran wasn’t sat there, in her armchair, with her curlers wound tightly around her thin, white hair.  
I'd only just settled down on the sofa with my tea, when I got a call on the phone. I rushed downstairs, almost tripping over the carpet to the large, burgundy coloured telephone that I’d pressed my grandma to buy when I began living with her as a teenager. She didn’t much see the point, Why do I need a phone? She’d complained, all my friends write me letters, or are dead.

“Hello?” I muttered, speaking for the first time that day so my voice was garbled at best.  
“Eve? Is that you? Of course it’s you, I’m ringing your phone - anyway I can't talk for long but I needed to ask, are you coming out dancing tonight? Sam’s birthday is in two days so we’re celebrating this weekend before she leaves to her parent’s house in Surrey.” Anette rushed out. She’d been my friend since boarding school, ever-loving, but never quiet. That girl had 1,000 words in her head at every minute and couldn’t go seconds without throwing them out at the world. I paused, considering. Did I really want to see Sam again so soon?  
“I suppose I will. Are we meeting at the disco or the bar?” I asked, not really needing to make the distinction - I knew it was the disco.  
“The disco! Of course, who do you think I am? Oh, I'm so excited - I'm going to have to ask the DJ to play Another One Bites the Dust, just for Sam” she giggled, “What are you doing now? You’d better get ready soon, I’m not accepting jeans and a t-shirt - we’re all going to dress up like disco divas today - God! I’m so excited, that’s a song-” she finished the lyrics, singing quite loudly. I moved my ear away from the receiver, trying not to wince at her well-meaning, but, well, pitchless wailing.  
“Okay, okay, that’s fine. I’ll wear my purple suit, and those suspenders you got me last Christmas.”  
“Okay Eve-”  
“Evelyn, Darling I haven’t seen you in ages, how are you? Are you doing okay?” Anette’s mother, Ruby said from the line, interrupting our goodbye’s.  
“I’m good, Mrs L, thanks for asking. Just sorting out Gran’s house.”  
“Mum, I’m on the phone! Eve has things to do, okay I’ll talk to you later! See you at 8 on the dancefloor!’’ She yelled into the receiver. I hesitated, not sure whether to end the call.  
“Well, it seems I’m not allowed to talk to you. Do come over soon, Darling, we miss you very much.’’ Ruby said. Not very likely.  
“Will do, Mrs L, see you then, goodbye now”  
“Goodbye!” she replied, and I put the handset down.  
It’s just gone six-thirty, I'd better get a shower and get dressed.

The dance floor was covered in brightly coloured people, throwing their hands and bodies about in a dangerous game of don’t-hit-me. I wandered up to the bar, lighting a cigarette. I waved the bartender over, and almost shouted “Can I get a Bacardi and Coke?” I asked. He nodded, turning to fix my drink. I fished out my money, and handed it to him, “Get yourself one too!” I yelled, heading through the dance floor towards my group of friends who I'd just spotted, dancing near a booth in the corner. Bob saw me first and nudged Anette who waved frantically, making sure saw them. I waved back with equal enthusiasm, trying to syke myself up for the night. I looked at who else was there; Sam, who was wearing blue corduroys and a baggy green jumper I recognised, I gave her when we finished Six 2 as a parting present, she wore it more than I did anyway. I smiled in her direction, and she smiled back, although hesitantly; She was standing next to her new girlfriend, Jenny, who was nursing a southern comfort and lemonade. She too was wearing a suit not dissimilar to mine. I thought I'd best not to mention it.  
“Eve! I’m so glad you’re here, we were just talking about boarding school! Do you remember our swimming trips, I mean, of course, you do, they were your favourite part of the school term!’’ I nodded, suddenly reminded of the days I’d spent with Anette, Sam and Marrissa at Meadfoot Beach when we were younger. I looked instinctively to Sam, who was avoiding my gaze.  
“You and Sam used to spend so long, swimming out to Thatchers Rock, I always wondered if you’d make it back before the last bus, but you always did. You two were so cute-”  
“Hey, Ane, do you wanna go grab a drink Darlin’? I’m dying for something harder than larger tonight - Not every day you celebrate someone’s 25th birthday!” Bob tactfully changed the subject, in an attempt to distract Jenny from Anette’s careless words.  
“Okay hun, sure. Be back in a mo!” she continued talking to Bob, turning to run through the crowd of dancers, dragging Bob behind her. I shot him a thankful smile.  
I placed my drink down, “Budge along Rissi?” we began talking about work, Rissi had recently qualified as a primary teacher, and was excited to talk about mundane things such as classroom decoration and how strange it is to be back at school, but this time as a teacher. I finished my drink quickly, catching up to my friends who’d clearly been there longer than me.

“Shall we dance?” Bob suggested, pulling Sam and me, who sat on the outside of the pale plastic booths up by our forearms. We agreed, moving onto the floor as ‘Another One Bites The Dust’ came on. Anette grins, yelling far too close to my ear, ”I didn’t even have to ask!’’ We dance recklessly, our drinks beginning to kick away the awkwardness from earlier, and the tension I felt being around Jenny and Sam. Rissi and I dance together, as everyone else paired up. “I love your shirt, Babe!” I yelled at her. She was wearing a flowy red and black shirt, daringly unbuttoned to show her golden crucifix.  
“Thanks! It’s a Ben Sherman! I got it last weekend!’’ I nodded instead of replying and began dancing with little to no coordination to the music, throwing our bodies to the rhythm as we punched the air to the beat. We switched partners, Jenny using this chance to quiz me;  
“So were you and Sam good friends in school?’’ she grabbed my hand and twirled me around, which I was displeased about but relented. I usually lead, I thought to myself.  
“Yeah, we were good friends,” I replied with an even tone.  
“She doesn’t talk about you very much,” Jenny said, trying to draw out answers.  
“Doesn’t she?” I responded, offhandedly. I kept dancing, unsurprised by the news. We hadn’t exactly ended things on a good note. The song changed, and I excused myself to get another drink; this time stronger.

“So, where do you see yourself in 10 years?” Rob, the man who was interviewing me for the position asked. I’d recently applied for a position as an adolescent mental health unit that I'd attended when I was 16. They helped me through the death of my mother, and the support and consideration from the counsellors here and my friends really helped me deal with her passing, which I wasn't sure I otherwise could have done.  
“I see myself having finished my masters, and having work full time at a psychology clinic, either here or somewhere similar. I also hope to be married, with kids, hopefully.”  
“Okay… Evelyn, we’ll get back to you soon about if you got the position, have I got your telephone number yet?”  
“Yes, it’s on my CV, thanks for your time.”  
The building had 5 rooms, and was quite small; the bathroom, the 2 rooms in the back for therapy, and the open plan games/ relaxing room, which had teenagers dotted around, playing pool or watching tv, talking quietly amongst themselves. The bright colours of the painted walls starkly contrasted with slumped shouldered, sad-looking teens.  
Being back here reminded me of all the time I’d spent here, usually sat in the corner quietly reading or playing with the aged guitar that someone had donated. My mother died of pancreatic cancer, midway through my 5th year at school. I, obviously found it very hard to deal with it, Sam helped as much as she could, it was hard for her too, but it made our bond stronger as we made it through such a difficult time together. We would go together some weekends to the cemetery and leave flowers, mum always loved it when Sam came over, even when we kept her up giggling at night. I smiled at the memories.  
My dad was never in the picture, so I began living with my Gran when I wasn’t at boarding school. For the rest of the day, I did simple chores around the house, hoovered the floor and sorted more boxes, secretly hoping the phone would ring so I had an excuse to ignore my tasks.  
Eventually, it did. Sam called and asked me out to drinks, rather unexpectedly, I agreed, and asked her what time, nine, she said.  
When I met her at the bar, she was alone, and looked different to usual, as if she wanted to appear normal, but I knew her face too well to not recognise when there was something amiss. I sat down in the booth opposite her after ordering my drink.  
We talked about nothing for a while, until I finally asked her why shed called me, why and why she looked upset. She looked down at her drink, her eyes glazing over, I assume she was trying to decide whether to tell me.  
“Jenny and I had an argument about… it doesn’t matter what about. We just don't get on of late, and I’m not sure if I can keep doing it. Just having these useless fights, the resentment. It’s driving me insane, I want to love her, I want to make things right. But I find myself getting ready for an argument as soon as I sit down at a date, or walk into her flat. I want to make things work, I do, I just don't know if we’re right for each other. We’ve only been together for a few months, and it’s already like this. What're a few years going to be like?”  
I nodded sympathetically. Told her what you expect me to say, the drivel about arguments being normal, but if they’re too frequent then maybe you guys just aren’t a good fit; as she said.  
She stared at me with an intensity that wasn’t sure if I should reciprocate, but I wanted to. All I wanted to do was to kiss her, to hold her hand again. I’d missed this; we hadn't spoken with this intensity in a long time, I missed the feeling of being close to her; I missed loving her. Her kinky black hair, her delicate hips, her smooth ovular breasts. The way she leaned back when she finished a sentence, almost as if she was moving away from the stage to let me speak.  
She bit her lip and reached across the table to take a sip of my drink, she’d finished hers already. “Are you doing anything tonight?” I asked her, leaning further forward, but not lowering my voice. I was daring her to take what i meant as a subject change, of what both her and I knew I meant. She shook her head.  
“Let's get another round of drinks, then.” I stood up, leaning down to her level to pick up the glasses, “Same as usual?” I asked, meaning more than just her drink of choice. She looked at me, holding my gaze, clearly understanding what I meant without me having to be obvious, just like always.  
“Of course.”  
We stumbled into my house, several hours later, and I kicked the door closed behind us. I pushed her roughly against the door and stared into her eyes, our noses nearly touching. Her breath smelt of cigarettes and Bacardi. I slowly moved my lips towards hers, the chemistry swirling around us so strong that felt pulled towards her.  
I kissed her, softly at first, but quickly changing into something much stronger. I broke the kiss, slowly moving down to her sweet spot on her neck that I knew so well. “Can Jenny do this?” I whispered, drunk enough to not care about such a statement. She was mine, and I wanted her to stay that way.  
She didn’t reply, only moved my lips back to her lips, and kissed me rougher than before. We both fought for dominance and she bit my lip, hard enough to let me know she didn't want this, whatever this was, to end at just a kiss.  
So I led her by the hand, up to my room.


	2. ROSES

I awoke, the sun was beaming brightly through the half-closed curtains. I sat up, remembering the night before.

Sam, who was lying next to me, half covered by the sheets she had entangled herself in during the night. Her hair lay covering her face in a strangely beautiful nest. I ambled downstairs to make us tea before she awoke, wondering what this past night meant for us, for our relationship, and especially what it meant for her and Jenny. This wasn't the first time this had happened; Sam and I always found a way back to run other regardless of who we were seeing at the time. It wasn't right - I know, but our chemistry and passion were always just too much to ignore.

When I entered my bedroom, Sam was awake. Lying still on her back in my bed, her torso exposed from beneath the lilac duvet. "Hey there," I whispered, sitting down on the bed after placing the cups of tea gently down on the bedside table. She met my gaze, gently, but with an emotion that I count it quite place. She asked the time, I responded 11:30. She sighed and looked down at her hands which were lying interlocked over her ribs. "Are you upset about what happened last night?" I asked her, not really wanting to hear the answer, but more out of obligation. She moved towards me and kissed me. A soft, longing kiss.

"This can't keep happening," she said quietly. "I can't keep turning back to you as soon as things go awry with the newest girl. I need... I need space to get over you. I can't be around you any more. Last night was wonderful, but I can't keep doing this to the people I love. They deserve better." her voice cracked at the end, and I wrapped my arms around her waist to console her.

"I love you, Sammy," I whispered into her hair, holding her tighter.

"I love you too," she replied.

"Then why can't we just be us? Why has there always got to be someone else to warrant your affection? Why do you never want me unless there's someone else?" I broke the embrace. "How can you say you love me when our entire relationship is built on deception?" I turned away from her and took a sip of my still-far-too-hot tea.

"I don't know! I barely know why we ended, to begin with! Why would you want to try again with me, after all the shit I put you through? All the shit you put me through. After all the problems that we made for each other. I love you. I do. But I need my space to find out if it's you I need, or if I just need me. I'm sorry."

She moved my face towards her, leading my chin with her index finger. She was sitting next to me on the bed, legs crossed, wearing nothing but her 'tree of life' necklace. It hung on the upper part of her chest. I kissed her, the type of kiss that explains exactly what I want, what I needed to express, that language simply doesn't have words for.

Need, desperation, love, passion, want.

"Don't leave me. I don't want to live another day without you, Sam. Please. Please don't leave me again." I didn't cry often. I rarely felt the need to, I was far more used to bottling up my emotions and keeping my face clear of all signs of longing, of sadness. But all at once, I felt the torrential flood wash over me, and I turned to her, lay my head in her lap and began to cry. The type of tears that don't go away quickly, that doesn't want to stop. The type that feels as if they're suffocating you, that you'll die if you stop crying. She held me. Held me until my tears finally ceased, and then we finished our tea.

Talked about what came next, neither of us sure whether we could comprise on our vastly differing views of what tomorrow and the days following should hold.

She still wasn't wearing anything. Suddenly, neither was I.

The blankets fell to the floor.

Sam called me the day after, told me she’d broken up with Jenny, that she wasn't going to stay with her when all they did was fight. She didn't tell her about us, I thought that was a wise choice. We spoke for a short time and decided to meet at the bar again. And so we did.

The bar was a dark, quiet place that we loved because it was frequented by largely older people. We'd been going together since we could order without raising suspicion, at around 16. The lighting was minimal, which flattered us both.

I was waiting when she arrived, and she was beautiful. Wearing a mid-length flowery dress, and a matching ribbon in her curly, brown hair. I watched her order at the bar, her nails tapping on the counter as she waited to be served, then she turned and walked towards me, her eyes lighting up as we locked gazes.

"Mi amor, how are you?" she asked me, sitting down across from me and placing her drink on the table. She wasn't Italian, but Anette's influence had rubbed off on her. We spoke quietly about life, skipping the small talk as neither of us were a fan of it, and besides, we were past that point. We began discussing Freud, led there by a story from her work of a man who simply couldn't stop sucking his thumb when he believed no one to be looking. We both agreed that Freud's research left little to agree within a world where old white men couldn't just announce a theory and have it be respected.

The conversation began to drift towards us again, our relationship, our love. We decided that we were seeing each other again, officially, however, our friends were on an 'ask and I'll tell you' basis. We didn't feel the need to exclaim it from the rooftops, not that any queer woman ever did. I held her hand across the table.

"Oh, how I wish I could kiss you right now," I whispered to her, softly, watching her begin to blush. The rosy, red hue moved from her ears through to her cheeks, meeting in the middle of her freckled nose.

"I love you," she whispered in response, before announcing she was going to the ladies room.

I ordered us another round, sure that this would be our last before we went back to mine again. I stuck up a conversation with one of the locals I knew who was sat at the bar. They told me about their dog, Buddy, who'd recently been diagnosed with cataracts. I sent Buddy my love. He too was a regular at the bar but was at home tonight.

Sam and I talked some more, I told her about my interview at the centre, and how I'd had a confirmation today that I was employed. I was to start on Monday - she was thrilled, remembering as well as how they had helped me.

We walked back to mine, through the alleyway shortcuts to have privacy. We held hands, and kissed, basking in the glory of the intimacy we shared.


	3. Marigolds

Sam and I both had a day off, so we swanned around the house, drinking tea and smoking. After lunch we decided to keep sorting through Gran's old things together. 

We split roles to achieve more, her working on the attic and I the crafts room. I found myself keeping lots of its contents, as I too enjoyed painting, sewing and drawing as much as Gran did. However, I discarded her half-finished doodles. 

The walls were lined with realistic portraits in golden frames. They were of me, my mother, and some people I didn't recognise. I assumed they were her friends in her youth - as they were all women younger than thirty. 

The most striking was a large portrait of a woman with long, ginger hair and freckles to match. She was stunning, and Gran captured her essence beautifully. She has piercing blue eyes, that when I was younger, I believed to have been staring right at me. 

When I asked Gran who she was when I was about 6, she smiled at me, fondly told me she was an old girlfriend, which of course she meant friend by. Her generation always seemed to specify gender when they referred to their friends - I felt no need to. 

Suddenly, Sam's voice rang out through the hall, 

"Hey babe? I found a chest up here. Have you found Caroline's keys?" 

I thought for a moment, yelled back a yes and soon met her upstairs with a large ring of heavy, metal keys my Gran seemed to have hoarded.  _ I'd yet to find anything that needed unlockin _ g, I thought to myself. 

My eyes fell on the small chest Sam was pointing to. It was beautiful, aged certainly, but the wood still intact. A dark mahogany with an intricate metal lock.  _ I wonder what’s inside?  _

Trying all the old keys, we finally managed to shift the lock, with difficulty. The key matched the metal design of the lock, a rose engraved on the head of it. 

Opening the chest, we were underwhelmed. In a plastic  _ tesco _ bag were heaps of paper.  _ What are these, paperwork?  _

"This is kind of anticlimactic." Sam drawled, lighting a cigarette, passing it to me. 

"Thanks, beautiful." I smiled, kissed her. 

Then I pulled the top bag out, removed the papers. They were yellowed with age, but still immaculately creased, as if someone had tried as hard as they could to preserve whatever was written inside. 

"Letters?" She asked, taking one from me and beginning to read. 

I slowly opened another myself, and saw a handwriting I didn’t recognise, 

"It certainly isn't Gran's handwriting." I joked to Sam. I could recognise her chicken scratch from miles away.

"That's for sure. I could never understand the letters she sent you, remember babe?" 

I nodded, and began to read. 

We both sat there, enraptured by the story unfolding. 

  
  
  


_ Wednesday 12th December ‘28 _

_ Return to Aurora Bianchi _

_ Via Longhena 102 _

_ Ponte Galaria _

_ Sirmione _

_ 00050 _

_ Dear Caroline,  _

_ I went swimming with Greta  _

_ today, I still can’t believe she’s grown up so quickly. It feels like yesterday that she was 8, and I was travelling away for the first time. _

_ I spent today caught in a haze, reminiscing on the first time I met you. Do you remember the dress you wore? It was that peach one that you claimed you despised, yet when you wore it you seemed so perfectly at ease. Perhaps I’m mistaking your joy on that voyage to such a triviality. To be perfectly honest, I could have worn nothing but a sack and still have enjoyed myself. It was so, stunningly perfect. No oppressive mothers to force me to brush my hair constantly, no curfew. Solace in your love. _

_ I remember you were standing by the bar, that skirt flowing so smoothly over your legs, your blonde curly hair tucked behind your ears, I felt that I was instantly drawn to you, be it at that point intrigue, or lust for someone so utterly, powerfully unique  _

_You ordered a strong mojito, and sat drinking it while staring out at the dark ocean night, the wind sweeping your hair back from your face. You looked like a goddess,_ _Mi _amor.

_ When I approached you, you seemed unsure of me, but unfazed. So powerfully yourself that I longed to kiss you from that moment.  _

_ We spoke lightly at first, until you recognised your own thoughts in my eyes. Then we began to speak further, amused by how similar our beliefs were. I still remember your giggling, your smile, your tender love.  _

_ How are you,  _ tesoro _ ? I miss you.  _

_ How is Delilah, that little beauty of yours? I still remember her fluffy white self sitting on your bed when we woke up in the mornings.  _

_ I hope you are well,  _ O Dio _ I pray it, I know we are both disbelievers in  _ Cristianesimo _ , yet the mere thought of you unwell sends me into its arms. I suppose in some ways I am like my mother.  _

_ With bated breath for your response,  _

_ Your love,  _

_ Aurora.  _

  
  


"Oh my god, Eve, your Gran was a lesbian?" Sam gasped, looking up at me for some kind of response. 

"Who the fuck is Aurora?'' I replied with the same meaning. 

"Her girlfriend, it sounds like. Listen to this!" she began to read, "My dearest Caroline, I miss you. My love for you grows stronger with every day we are apart. To your previous letter, yes, I do remember the time we swam together to that island on your beach. I almost died of exhaustion by the end, as did you." Sam looked at me with a surprised face, Caroline and her girlfriend used to fuck on the same place we did? What the fuck! That's so funny. Like grandma like granddaughter, I guess." she laughed, so did I. 

"I can't believe she never told me. She knew about you and I, we would talk about it sometimes. I can't believe this!" 

We kept reading the letters, intrigued by this secret life Gran seemed to had lead years before I was even born. 

  
  


_ Tuesday 13th September '24  _

_ Return to Aurora Bianchi _

_ Via Longhena 102 _

_ Ponte Galaria _

_ Sirmione _

_ 00050 _

_ Good morning, Mi Amor,  _

_ Today is an unextrordinary day.  _

_ The sun has risen and fallen and I haven't thought of a thing except you- which I suppose makes it extraordinary. The mere thought of you brings such grand happiness into my life.  _

_ I miss you - I do wish you will come visit me soon or allow me to visit you. I know we have planned for summer, yet I simply don't think I can wait another second without you in my arms.  _

_ The orchard is doing well this year, Mother has been trying so hard to cultivate its radiance for your return visit. She informed me earlier today that we must go shopping, it wasn't right to have guests with the same clothes you wore on their previous visit.  _

_ To be daringly unreserved, I thought to myself that I wouldn't be considering your clothes when you were around me, merely what you wore - or didn't wear underneath.  _

_ To answer your previous questions, yes, I do still have the same postcard you gave me on my wall, much to mothers dismay when she visits my residence. In fact, I've recently bought a rather beautifully hideous lamp and began collecting stones from the beach to place on the mantle below your painting of the beach. Mother, as expected, detests this habit as well, she tells me it takes away from the beauty of your work. I disagree and refuse to remove the stones whenever she complains. They remind me of you, all with their own brand of individuality that you bring out in everyone you meet.  _

_ _

_ O, Tesoro, I do think of you constantly. I know it may sound far fetched, perhaps strange, but every thought I think is intertwined with my love of you and all of your actions.  _

_ Until I see you again,  _

_ Your love,  _

_ Aurora.  _

I closed the letter, sealing it with the rose stamp my mother has bought me when I was 16. It was made of real silver, intricately detailed, as Mother had an eye for perfection. 

I thought I may telephone Caroline later, however, we preferred to write as it ensured us privacy to talk about our most personal details; we were wary of the telephone, and whoever may be listening to our calls. 

My Caroline, My darling. 

I decided I would go for a cycle ride into town to buy some cigarettes and the day's newspaper, perhaps read it in the orchard. 

The scenery in these parts was beautiful, no matter where I travelled to I could never find the peace and tranquillity what found here in the countryside of Bergamo, Caroline seemed equally fond of my family residence. 

The clerk at  _ il negozio _ asked me polite questions about my travel, regardless of my return has been more than a month ago, and me seeing him sometimes more than once a day to fund my smoking habit. I lit up, breathing in the smoke with a relaxed breath. 

I slowly wandered, bike in hand, down to the local bar and bought myself a drink, trying to ignore the judgemental stares from all the  _ mecenati  _ who would rather see me in chains than drinking alone as a woman.  _ I wonder if people will ever change, if this is because I don't live in the city, or just because I am seen as unacceptable because I do not wish to wear dresses, or because I refuse to not drink when I want to drink, perhaps because I dress too much like a man. _

Then, a woman approached me from across the bar, the first thing I noticed was how tall she was. Blonde hair, blue eyes, addressed me in English. This I did not expect, as tourist season was not upon my town yet. 

"Can I have a cigarette?" she asked me, looking me up and down as if she was trying to understand who I was from my body. 

"Can I have your name?" I said, handing her the pack and my lighter. 

"Clarice. And yours?" she took a long drag from the cigarette, sitting down on a stool at the bar and kicking off her shoes.  _ Who was this woman?  _

"Aurora Bianchi." I replied. We stared at each other, neither seeming to want to look away. 

"Are you here alone?" She asked me, with an intention that I knew but didn't know whether to reciprocate. 

"Physically, yes." I replied, and she laughed. 

"What exactly does that mean, darling?" my eyes were locked onto her face, her lips, her eyes. She interested me instantly, from the minute she had walked towards me. I didn't know what to do, I didn't believe Caroline and I to be exclusive, yet I didn't know. I was trapped in a thought spiral that only lead to one thing: this mysterious 'Clarice.' 

"Let's go outside, its quieter." I told her, before turning on my heel without offering her a 'no, if like to stay'. The sky had begun to darken, from the previously blinding midday sun. We walked towards the tables facing the rocks, the bartender yelling behind me about remembering my tab. I responded with a quick jibe at his lack of trust in me;  _ Cos'altro potrei fare, amico mio? Morto? _

We sat quietly. She began filling the silence with her backstory, she was studying in Sirmione this year, being new to the town. Living with locals, failing with Italian. 

_ Say something in italian,  _ I challenged her. 

She was right, she was failing. I suggested we continue in Italian to help her learn - 

"Maybe after a few more drinks,  _ cara _ , perhaps all the Italian I will need then is  _ Altro, caro dio." _

I laughed at her audacity - did I really look so obvious? Was I so obvious? I'd noticed before, I just didn't think it was so visible that I liked women that a complete stranger would be willing to make such a comment. 

We drank and talked until late into the evening, walking slowly down to the beach, sitting with our feet in the water, next to each other.  _ I could talk to this girl for hours _ , I thought to myself. During a lull in conversation, she moved her hand to over mine, then began holding it. I looked down at our interlocked hands, unsure of how to respond. I did love Caroline, but she was so far away. I'm sure she would understand, she knew what I was like. Regrettably, most people did. Our eyes locked, and sparks began to fly. Undoubtable, earnest tension building between us. I moved my hair behind my ear, before looking away towards the water once again. 

"The sky is so beautiful tonight." I remarked, no matter how many times I saw the night sky it never got any less spectacular in my eyes. When I was a child, I thought I could see my father in the stars. He passed when I was very young, sending shock waves through my family's lives. We didn't move house, Mother didn't need to work as Grandfather paid her way forward. He disagreed with women working, and believed we should come and live back with him and grandmother, yet Mother denied all requests of such. She demanded just this one form of independence, to raise her own children as she saw fit. 

Mother was a cold woman, convinced that discussing one's personal life with her children was out of the question. She never spoke to me about fathers death, not once. After my father's passing, she fell into a deep depression 

Greta was too young to have suffered a loss, as he died of pneumonia only a few months after her birth. I was 11 at the time, still naive and young; carefree. Then my world came crashing down around me, with father dead, and mother in a deep mourning that lasted years. 

I was tasked with the raising of Greta, as much as was possible. I found that my responsibility as a sister became far more of a mother to her; teaching her to read, how to ride a bicycle, to use her cutlery correctly, how to think critically, tools my mother believed incredibly important when she raised me. 

_ Conoscersi è conoscere tutti, _ she had told me when I was a young child, repeated constantly throughout my adolescence into adulthood.

_ To know oneself is to know everyone. _

"Where are you, darling?" Clarice asked me, noticing my introspection. 

"With the stars." I smiled at her, tightening my grip on her hand slightly. 

"Come back to me, then." She whispered, looking deeply into my eyes. 

And I did. We parted ways in the early morning, she walked me home to ensure I was safe. I asked her to stay the night, as its unsafe for a woman to be walking too late at night. She told me she lived just around the corner.  _ Convenient,  _ I thought to myself. I decided I would watch her get home safely before I went inside. 

We bid each other goodnight, she chastly kissed my cheeks before turning on her heel and walked slowly back to her residence. I watched her long strides, admiring her elegance. 

  
_ This girl was to ruin me _ , I knew. But I welcomed it.


End file.
